


Gravity

by Xie



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 01:31:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xie/pseuds/Xie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a post-series Christmas in Canada, everyone's figuring things out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gravity

Justin dumped his jacket on the counter in his workspace. He tried to paint, but all he wanted to do was break something.

He'd sweltered through one of the hottest summers on record without the loft's air conditioning. He hadn't been able to go to Toronto for Gus' birthday party.

Now Thanksgiving. No dinner at Deb's, no sophomoric jokes about being "stuffed" from Brian.

He grabbed a tube of crimson paint, and squeezed a heavy line across his canvas. He feathered it out, working it into the space with his brush, and then his fingers. But nothing he did worked.

"Christ," Brian said when Justin called. "You're acting like it's some huge fucking sacrifice to avoid ending up in the emergency room after eating Deb's candied yams."

Justin kicked the leg of his easel, trying to angle the canvas into the light. "It's a big fucking deal to me."

He could almost hear Brian roll his eyes over the phone. "Then quit your job, come home for the holidays, and go back in the New Year and look for another one." Justin could hear him light a cigarette. "Maybe one in your field this time instead of some fucking diner."

Justin took a deep breath. "It's not a diner. It's a very expensive restaurant and I'm lucky to have the job, considering the economy."

"Please," Brian said, "don't talk to me about the economy. You're starting to sound like Theodore, and trust me, you don't want me to start making that association if you ever want me to fuck you again."

Justin laughed. "I just wish…"

Brian's voice softened almost imperceptibly. "What do you wish?"

"That you were fucking me right now."

"I'm sure you do, but that's not what you were going to say."

"No," he agreed. "It wasn't."

"Then what?"

"I thought it would be different, that's all."

Brian sighed. "Self-pity…"

"Makes your dick soft. I know. We all know." Justin dumped his brushes in the sink. "Don't I get to complain for ten minutes about missing something that's important to me?"

"Trust me, Sunshine, your ten minutes are up."

"Fuck you, Brian." Justin tightened his grip on the phone. "I miss being home. I miss us being together, alright? Is that really so hard for you to understand?"

Brian cleared his throat. "No." Then he laughed, short and sharp. "And you can trust me on that, too."

________________________________

 

Lindsay slipped on the icy path as she carried the groceries to the house. She'd grown up hating Pittsburgh winters, but Toronto's hit earlier and harder.

Melanie was at the dining room table, the light from her laptop reflecting on the glasses perched on the end of her nose. "Hi, did you..." She looked up. "You did. Hold on, let me help you with those."

Lindsay gratefully let her take two bags. "I know we can't afford to go to Pittsburgh for both Thanksgiving and Christmas," she said, carrying the groceries into the kitchen. "But Debbie's called four times today, bitching."

Melanie put the tea kettle on. "I know. Michael emailed me. Five times." She pulled two cups off a shelf. "I told them they were welcome for Hanukkah, and it's not like we didn't invite them for Canadian Thanksgiving."

Lindsay kicked off her high heels and sat down at the big oak table. "Yeah," she said dryly, "I can still hear Deb telling us 'there's no such thing as Canadian Thanksgiving.'"

"Don't tell Jenny Rebecca," Melanie said, laughing, "but her grandma's an ugly American."

A gust of wind blew snow against the kitchen windows just as the kettled started whistling.

Lindsay put the groceries away while Melanie made tea. "Did Gus finish his homework?"

"After a short struggle." Melanie pulled out the wooden chopping board. "The kids are parked in front of the television. You can yell at me about that after dinner."

Lindsay put the super-jumbo package of Gus' favorite breakfast cereal into the cupboard. "Please. I gave up on that long ago." She frowned. "Remember when we wouldn't even read him bedtime stories if they had a commercial tie-in?"

Melanie laughed. "And now we have a house full of cheap plastic crap from China, courtesy of Grandma Deb."

__________________________________________

 

Brian leaned forward in the back of the cab; it was the first time he'd been to Justin's latest apartment. "That's it," Brian told the driver. "Next to the pizza place, with the big tree in back."

In some ways it was stupid to come, since Justin would be home for Christmas in six days. But Brian did have his priorities. "Sick of phone sex," he'd texted Justin. "Sick of sub-standard blow jobs. Be there Friday."

Justin buzzed him in, and the next two hours were a blur of cock and ass, skin and throat, and Justin's mouth under his.

Brian was sprawled across Justin's back in the dark apartment, trying to get his heartrate, respiration, and ability to speak back under control.

"Wow," Justin breathed from underneath him. "Let's do that again."

Brian shifted, then reluctantly pulled his dick out of Justin's ass. "Easy for you to say," he grumbled. "You just have to lie there while I do all the work."

Suddenly Brian found himself flipped onto his back, Justin straddling his thighs. "I can change that," he said, grinning.

Brian raised one eyebrow. "Knock yourself out."

Justin was just ripping a condom open when Brian's cell phone rang.

Brian started to reach for it, and Justin put his hand on his arm. "You have to be kidding."

"It's Lindsay," he said, sticking his tongue out at Justin. "You've been waiting this long, you can wait two more minutes." He answered the phone. "Great timing, as always, Lindsay. I'm..."

"God," Justin said, flopping on the bed next to him. "You're the most compulsive..."

Brian made an abrupt gesture with his hand, and Justin stopped talking.

"Where is he?" Brian said into the phone. Then a minute later, "I'm on my way."

He lay there after he slammed the phone shut, arm over his eyes.

"Brian," Justin said. "What is it?"

Brian stood up. "Gus broke his leg. "

Justin got up and stood next to him, arm around his waist. "Don't worry. Kids break their legs all the time. He's going to be fine."

Brian nodded. "I know." Then he laughed. "Guess how he did it."

"Ummmm... trying to fly by jumping off the roof?"

"Guess again."

"Just tell me."

"He tripped and fell down the stairs. On a..." he paused dramatically... "toy glockenspiel."

Justin burst out laughing. "Only your son."

"Fuck you." Brian pulled on his jeans. "This one is definitely the Peterson DNA."

Brian laughed at the hospital gift shop window. Huge bouquets of red roses -- who the fuck gives someone red roses in the hospital? -- and stuffed animals vied for space with mastectomy bras and trashy romance novels.

Lindsay met him outside Gus' room. "It's a complex fracture," she said. "With an adult, they'd do one thing, but for kids, it's more complicated."

Brian nodded. "Do you need money, or..."

She smiled. "There's universal health coverage in Canada, remember?"

"Ah, yes," Brian said. "Another reason they suck less than America."

She stood up. "Come on. He's waiting to see you."

Brian rested his hand on Gus' hair. "How're you doing, son?"

"I'm okay." He blinked. "Can I go home now?"

Brian shook his head. "They're still trying to decide whether you need surgery, or this new transformer device for your leg." He grinned at him. "They're both cool, but I'm voting for the transformer."

Gus giggled, his eyelids slowly drifting closed. Brian sat next to him, and felt something a little lumpy under his ass. He half-stood, reached under the blanket, and pulled out a remarkably bedraggled teddy bear.

He smiled and slipped it under the blanket, nestled against Gus' arm.

The doctors went with the metal frame instead of surgery. Gus was enthralled with its high-tech robotic appearance, but not happy that the trip to Pittsburgh was off.

"Will you stay until Christmas, Daddy?" Gus said after Brian carried him upstairs.

"I don't think I can, son," Brian said slowly, watching Lindsay tuck him in. "I still have to buy your present."

"Maybe Daddy could come back after he finishes his Christmas shopping," Lindsay said brightly as she brought her foot down on Brian's instep just out of Gus' sight.

"That's right," Brian said, wincing. "Maybe Daddy can come back."

_____________________________________

 

The diner was a veritable holiday haven, every inch smothered in plastic garland, sparkling lights, and fake holly. Brian carefully avoided the giant ball of mistletoe just inside the front door and sat down at the counter.

He broke the news to Debbie just as she was filling his coffee cup.

She banged the pot down. "What do you mean, they can't come?"

Brian stirred sugar into his coffee and shrugged. "Not with that thing on Gus' leg."

She stood up. "They didn't come for Thanksgiving, and now I'm not going to see my precious little granddaughter for Christmas, either?"

Brian contemplated her over the rim of his cup. "If only you hadn't pissed off that border guard, you could somehow re-enter the Great Frozen Northland."

"What the fuck am I supposed to do, flap my magical angel wings and fly to Toronto?"

Brian held out his cup for a refill. "They now have commercial aviation; you don't have to depend on divine intervention."

Debbie ignored him. "Are you going?"

He sighed and refilled his own cup. "I am."

She smiled. "Will wonders never cease." Her smile faded. "What about Justin?"

Brian wrapped his hands around his cup. "Excellent question."

"Deb!" It was a guy at a booth. "You taking our orders before the new year?"

"I was," she said, picking up the coffee pot. "But it's definitely looking iffy now, boys."

Brian stared at his cup, then got out his phone.

He was listening to Justin's voice message when Debbie set a burger and fries in front of him. "Here. The guy who ordered this walked out. You eat it."

Brian rolled his eyes, but let himself eat a french fry before speaking into the phone. "Call me. I have a proposition for you." Then he ate another fry.

He was at Kinnetik when Justin called. "How's Gus?"

Brian turned his desk chair around to face the wall. "Complaining constantly, but Lindsay said he's doing great." He paused. "So, I was thinking..."

"Always a dangerous thing."

"I know you were coming home for Christmas, but what would you say to a visit to Canada, oh Canada, instead?"

Silence, then, "You're going up there?" Before Brian could answer, Justin went on. "Of course you are. Of course you have to."

"I'd really like it," Brian said, "if you would come."

Justin's voice was soft. "Of course I'll come," he said.

Justin flew into Pittsburgh two days later. "Okay," he said when Brian picked him up. "First home to drop off my bag, then I have to go downtown."

Brian groaned. "Have you done any of your shopping yet?"

Justin grinned at him while he fastened his seat belt. "Yes, I got your present in New York."

Brian pulled away from the curb. "And that's the only one you got, right?"

"Well," Justin said, "how could I resist that double-headed vibrating dildo in the window of the sex toy store on Times Square?" He grinned again. "Remind me to buy batteries."

It started snowing before they left the loft, but Justin insisted he had to shop, so Brian dropped him downtown on his way back to Kinnetik.

Justin watched the Corvette roar off, flinching a little when Brian took a turn without slowing down. A blast of cold air hit him as he turned and headed for the door of Macy's, in search of something for his mom and sister.

Duty done, he started walking towards the stores on Liberty Avenue. Despite what he'd said to Brian, he'd done most of his shopping in New York. But he still needed something for Lindsay.

Justin pushed the door open to a small antiques store Lindsay used to like. It was full of dark, shining furniture, gleaming mirrors, and embroidered cushions and ottomans. It was the opposite of the diner, every wreath and garland made of real pine, the lights tasteful and twinkling, the scent of hot cider and the sound of holiday music filling the air.

But however perfect everything was, there was nothing Justin could imagine getting for Lindsay, even if he could afford the sky-high prices, or fit a mahogany dining table and six velvet-upholstered chairs in the back of the Corvette.

"Justin?"

He turned around, and for a minute couldn't think of who the person saying his name was. "Lisa?"

She smiled. "I haven't seen you since you left PIFA. And I won't ask how you are -- I saw the article in ArtForum. Congratulations."

He shrugged. "It wasn't as big a deal as most people thought."

She looked skeptical. "I'd cut off my arm to have something like that written about me." She could see he was uncomfortable, and stopped. "Well, great to see you -- Merry Christmas!" And she turned and started looking at some jewelry in a case.

Justin went outside into the snowy street. He was just about to call Brian to come get him when he noticed a poster in the window of the store, for an exhibit at the Frick.

He didn't really know why he looked at it. He lived in a city with some of the worlds greatest museums and galleries. But maybe he'd find something for Lindsay in the museum store. There was a cab at the curb, and without thinking, he got in. "I'm going to Pitt," he told the driver. "To the Frick."

 

He walked through the galleries, remembering his first visit, and telling his father he wanted to be an artist. He'd said artists didn't make any money and to go outside and throw the ball around instead of wasting his time drawing.

"You can be an artist," his mother said later, when his father went upstairs. And she'd brought him back to the museum, bought him pens and pencils and his first set of paints.

Suddenly missed her, like a pain in his gut, and wished he could spend Christmas with her and Brian, both. He was starting to hate geography.

He found a book of prints for Lindsay, and then called Brian to come get him. "What the fuck are you doing at Pitt?" he said.

"I got Lindsay something at the Frick gift shop."

He could almost hear Brian rolling his eyes over the phone. "You needed a museum fix, you mean."

Justin laughed. "You have no idea."

The traffic was terrible, the snow just making it worse. Brian got there a little before five, but it was already dark. "Christ," Justin said, sliding into the warm Corvette, "It's like living in the Arctic Circle."

Brian watched for a break in the traffic. "It's not that cold."

"Not the cold. I mean the dark."

"It's worse in Toronto. Still want to go?"

Justin put his hand on Brian's leg. "Absolutely. I just wish everyone would be there."

Brian pulled out. "I'm pretty sure Michael and his little family will be there, and of course, Grandma Deb."

Justin nodded. "I wish my mom would be there, too."

Brian glanced at him. "Invite her."

He considered. "That would be weird."

"Well," Brian said, "is there any better word to describe our family?"

Justin laughed, shaking his head.

______________________

 

Justin halted in the snow when he got out of his and Brian's rented car. "How beautiful."

Brian shrugged, looping his carry-on bag over his shoulder. "If you go for the Currier and Ives kind of Christmas." He started up the path. "I sort of miss Deb's porno elves, personally."

"What do you want to bet she's bringing them?"

Brian rang the bell, looking pained. "Bite your tongue."

Justin put his hands on both sides of Brian's face. "You bite it."

Brian laughed and kissed him, gently pulling his tongue into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth.

"You know, if you two want to make out, I'll close the door and save on Melanie and Lindsay's heating bills."

Justin pulled away from Brian's mouth in shock. "Mom. What are you doing here?"

She raised an elegant eyebrow. "Someone insisted you'd want me here. And bought me a first class ticket. And told me if I let you know, I'd be killed."

Justin smacked Brian's arm. "You asshole." Then he threw his arms around him. "I love you. Thank you."

They might have started kissing again, except for the excited voice from the top of the stairs. "Daddy!"

Carl, Debbie, Michael and Ben pulled up an hour later, in a car full of food, pots, pans, and gifts. Debbie had Jenny and the kitchen under control within ten minutes of her arrival, and Melanie and Lindsay decided not to fight it and came and sat down in the living room where Brian had Gus tucked under his arm.

Justin was sitting next to them, hearing about all the cool features of the metal cage around Gus' broken leg. Brian was smiling in a way he probably would have denied if anyone asked him about it, but no one did.

Debbie came out of the kitchen, holding Jenny. "So, are you a Christmas Eve or Christmas Day present-opening family?"

"My family opened gifts on Christmas Eve," said Lindsay. "That's why we open them on Christmas Day."

Ben laughed. "Thus are undying traditions born."

"Just as well," Brian said. "He's sound asleep."

Brian carried Gus upstairs. Justin followed, watching Brian gently pull the blankets over him. "That's a nice tradition."

"What? My son breaking his leg for the holidays?"

Justin stepped into Brian's arms. "No," he said. "You know that's not what I meant."

"I know," Brian said, then kissed him.

When they got back downstairs, Melanie and Debbie were debating the relative merits of Hanukkah and Christmas. "Hanukkah is just not that big of a holiday for Jews," Melanie said. "If it didn't happen around the same time as Christmas, you'd probably never have heard of it. I mean, do you know what Purim is? Sukkot?"

"It's not just Christmas. Most cultures have some kind of winter holiday," Ben said. "Solstice for the pre-Christian Western Europeans. Kwanzaa in the modern African-American community, modeled on the ancient harvest festivals of Africa."

"Jingle Balls Night at Babylon," Brian said. "My personal favorite."

Michael came down the stairs. "God, I've missed my little snowball."

Melanie rolled her eyes. "How many names do you have for that poor little girl?"

Jennifer put down her wine glass. "Poor little girl? Lucky little girl, to have so many people who love her." She reached over and brushed her hand through Justin's hair. "What matters isn't what we call our kids. It's that we love them."

Justin grabbed her hand, and held on tight.

Lindsay stood up abruptly, and walked out of the room. Brian looked at Melanie, but she just looked away. So he followed her.

Lindsay was standing with her hands on the back of a kitchen chair, staring at nothing.

Brian sat down, heaving a martyred sigh. "Tell me the fucking problem so I can throw money at it or do whatever it is I need to do to fix it."

Lindsay looked at him for a long time. "I'm not going to enable your bizarre combination of self-loathing and self-aggrandizement by responding to that bullshit." She tightened her lips. "This is a good place to raise kids. It's a good place to live. But it's not home. I want to move back to Pittsburgh."

Brian looked at her, his face blank. "I assume the problem is that Melanie doesn't?"

She shook her head. "I'm scared to ask her."

Brian stood. "Well, man up and tell her."

"That's not how it works in a relationship," she began. "There has to be compromise. Not ultimatums."

"What is that?" Brian snorted. "Fortune cookie wisdom?"

Justin walked in, carrying his wine glass, then stopped. "Am I interrupting?"

"Lindsay's having some kind of breakdown," Brian said. "Or a really bad case of PMS."

"Shut the fuck up, Brian," she said. "What the fuck do you know about it anyway?"

"About PMS? Nothing," he said. "And maybe all I'm good at is fucking and figuring out new and better ways to sell cereal. But here's what I do know: This thing where everyone I care the most about is in a different city from me is completely fucked."

Lindsay and Justin stared at him, speechless.

"Brian?" Justin finally said. "Ummm, were you planning on mentioning this to me any time soon?"

"I had a vague plan to murmur it romantically into your ear while I plowed your ass on Christmas Eve at the loft." He frowned. "Best laid plans etcetera."

Brian looked at Lindsay. "Using whatever bizarre form of communications lesbians rely on, you and Mel need to work this out. Another separation wouldn't be good for the kids, and I'd never survive it a second time."

Justin cleared his throat. "What about me? Us?"

Brian smiled, and Justin remembered all over again just how much Gus looked like his father. "My original plan was to tell you that one of us had to move, but if Gus is coming back to the Pitts... well, Sunshine, I guess it's going to be you."

Lindsay frowned. "Seriously, Brian..."

Brian steered them both towards the door. "Enough seriousness. It's Christmas Eve."

"I can't just... "

"Take however long you need," Brian said. "So long as you're home by next Christmas."

Lindsay continued into the living room, but Brian caught Justin's arm. "Well?"

"I'd already decided to move back," Justin said. "I was going to tell you on New Year's Day, while I plowed your ass."

Brian nodded. "Delusions aside, you have a month. I can't take hearing you bitch about your fucking job longer than that. Or put up with Pittsburgh's..."

"Sub-standard blow jobs. I know." And he kissed him.


End file.
